


Two Beds and A Coffee Machine

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We find out a little more about Naomi and Blair's past</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Beds and A Coffee Machine

**Author's Note:**

> As has happened to many people before, I was listening to a song and this story just kind of came to me.  I guess you could say I'm on a Naomi kick, but don't worry. The next story I'm working on has Carolyn in it. 
> 
> And of course a big THANK YOU (I told you it was going to be big ) to my beta (Jen) for her fast-ish beta reading.  You keep up your good work on the auction. 

## Two Beds and A Coffee Machine

by Banshee

Author's disclaimer: Naomi and Blair are not mine. Neither is the song 'Two Beds and A Coffee Machine, that belongs to the group Savage Garden. Terry on the other hand _is_ mine but if you want him he is yours. 

* * *

Two Beds and A Coffee Machine  
By Banshee 

And she takes another step  
Slowly she opens the door  
Checking that he is sleeping  
Picking up all the broken glass and furniture on the floor  
Been up half the night screaming, now it's time to get away  
Pack up the kids in the car  
Another bruise to try and hide  
Another alibi to write 

Naomi finally felt calm enough that if she tried to stand, she would actually be able to. Actually, calm wasn't the word she was looking for. Strong maybe, or steady, but not calm. There was no way the feelings that, even now, over an hour later, coursed through her could ever be mistaken for calm. Her whole body felt as if her insides were no longer made of solid flesh and bone, but instead churning energy pulsing along nerve pathways calling her to action, yet leaving her exhausted at the same time. Her hand might be steady as it grabbed the closest piece of furniture to aid her in standing, but calm was more then a steady hand. 

Finally making it to the door, Naomi took one last deep breath, hoping that would somehow ground her, before slowly opening the old wooden door. It took only a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light of the dimmer room. When she could finally see clearly the room appeared much as she thought it would. Both the end tables as well as the coffee table were knocked over, the coffee table's glass top nothing more than shattered fragments across the stained carpet. Of course, all the items that had been placed on the end and coffee tables were equally as scattered and ragged looking. Newspapers, magazines were strewn everywhere, and one of the lamps lay on its side, the bulb broken. One of the pictures on the far wall was askew while it's mate seemed to be missing altogether, only a dent in the wall caused by a fire porker now lying on the floor, gave any indication that something had been there. 

Letting her eyes scan over the damage that had been done to the living room, Naomi's gaze finally settled on what she had been searching for. In a recliner that was several feet away from its usual resting place, she saw Terry. Sprawled out in the chair, head leaning to one side, mouth open slightly as he gently snored, Naomi could almost forget that anything had happened out of the ordinary tonight. The vision of Terry sleeping in the recliner was a very common occurrence. 

But this wasn't an ordinary night. Even from across the room, she could smell the smoke and alcohol from his visit to the bar earlier that night. Even now, literally hours later, she could still feel the sting of the first slap he had given her for daring to talk back to him. It was a conscious effort not to touch the bruise she knew now marred her light complexion. Now was not the time to forget what had happened and be lulled back into the routine of everyday life that the image of Terry sleeping haphazardly in the recliner created. And yet she still felt off kilter enough that she had no idea what she should do. 

Falling back into a pattern she had followed for almost two years, the young woman began to clean up the room. Terry's stern voice playing over and over in her mind as she ran on autopilot. //A place for everything and everything in it's place. Can't you get that simple concept?// The last part she usually didn't hear anymore, but in stressful times the whole thing rang in her head. Setting the tables back on their legs, she stacked the magazines and papers back in their places. She didn't know what to do about the coffee table. With the top broken it was useless, but she found herself placing it back in the same spot it had been in since she had moved in here. 

Taking the broom from the kitchen she swept up the glass as well as she could, the old thread bare carpet cleaning up as easily as any wooden or tiled floor. Still, she would have to vacuum before she let her son play here. Pausing for a moment at the thought of her son, Naomi felt her heart constrict, causing an actual physical ache in her chest. What was she going to do? Her little boy deserved better then this. This was not what she had envisioned when she was fifteen years old and Terry told her to keep the baby, that he would help raise the it. He had seemed so happy that she was going to have their baby even if he was young, just out of high school himself. Perhaps she had just wanted him to be happy. Not that she would ever change the fact that she had kept her son, even if she could have gone back and changed things. Her little Blair was everything to her, she would never give him up. 

Hearing Terry's snoring stop for a moment she paused, her body going stone still. Glancing over her shoulder the young redhead watched as the young man turned slightly onto his side, the recliner squeaking slightly in protest before he settled back down into his alcohol induced sleep. 

Suddenly, she became aware of the fact that she had been afraid that Terry would awaken. Not because they might start yelling again, but because she was actually afraid he would hurt her. Shaking her head, her blue eyes going almost comically wide, she realized she couldn't live like that. She refused to become one of those battered housewives who wore sunglasses into dim supermarkets to hide her black eye, or a turtle neck sweater in the middle of July to hide the bruising on her throat, all the while having six kids in tow behind her. 

This image, so clearly before her mind's eye, thrust her into action. Being as quiet yet as quick as possible, Naomi began gathering up her meager positions. She was leaving a lot behind, but while she scanned the bedroom she shared with Terry, she realized that there was very little here that she truly considered her own. There was a shoebox filled with pictures from when she had lived with her parents, before they had disowned her. Already folded and ready to go was the old blue and white quilt her grandma had had stitched for her when she was just a little girl. Two medium suitcases held all of her clothes and the few remaining items she held dear to her heart. 

Once these were loaded into the car outside, Naomi hurried back into the house to gather up her son and the few belonging she would need for him. This was actually a little harder as she didn't want to leave any of his things, but she knew that traveling light was what was called for. Filling his old diaper bag with all the things a two your old boy would need, she then filled a single backpack with clothes. Slinging the backpack over one shoulder, and the diaper bag over the other, Naomi stole up to her sleeping boy. 

Laying in his bed, arms and legs gong every which way, Blair was sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted. Naomi's ever present inner voice was telling her that was only expected as the poor boy had been up half the night crying as his mother and father had a full out screaming match that in the end became even more. Carefully picking up the limp body, the young woman held her son close as she tiptoed through the dark house. Snagging both her and Blair's jackets, Naomi slipped out of the house 

Another ditch in the road  
You keep moving  
Another stop sign  
You keep moving on  
And the years go by so fast  
Wonder how I ever made it through 

And there are children to think of   
Baby's asleep in the back-seat  
Wonder how they'll ever make it through this living nightmare  
But the mind is an amazing thing  
Full of candy dreams and new toys and another cheap hotel  
Two beds and a coffee machine  
But there are groceries to buy  
And she knows she'll have to go home 

It was almost two in the morning when Naomi finally turned the car into the parking lot of a rundown looking hotel. She wasn't all that sure exactly where she was other than just over the Washington border. She had driven for several hours, not really going anywhere other then _away_ from Terry and the small apartment she had called home for over the last two years. 

The night man look at her a little longer then she thought he should, and it suddenly occurred to her that he was probably looking at the bruise on her face. For a moment she was afraid he might not let her get a room for the night, but in the end he just pushed the sign-in book over for to her to sign. Digging into her purse, she pulled out her money, quickly counting out enough for the night, and handed it to the night man. Taking the old battered key he held out she followed his instructions that would lead her to the correct room before heading back to her car and her son. 

Moving the car took only a moment. Pausing, the young woman crossed her arms over the steering wheel before laying her forehead on it. God, she was so tired. She felt as if things were spinning out of control and she didn't have any clue why she was here in the parking lot of a seedy looking hotel parked before what was sure to be a seedy looking room. 

A sound from the back made her look up, and in the rearview mirror Naomi watched as her young boy shifted in the seat, some of the blankets she had bundled him up in sliding onto the back floorboard. Suddenly it was perfectly clear why she was here. Using the burst of energy that came from that conviction, she hurried both her and her son into the small room for the night. 

Even with the light on it was dim. Despite the faded paint and the carpet the place wasn't as bad as she had first feared it would be. There were two twin beds against one of the walls, a scratched end table between the two with a lamp. On an equally homely looking waist-high dresser across from the beds was an old TV that looked as if it had seen better days and a coffee machine. 

Feeling her energy failing her again she quickly looked up, changed into her night gown, checked Blair one last time before she climbed into her own bed. Despite the growing heaviness of her limbs, the young woman found her mind spinning out of control. What was she doing? How could she do this on her own? She was only 17 and she had a 2-year old boy. She had no job. And what skills did a high school dropout have that could earn her money? The only way she had been able to afford this room was months of squirreling away what was left of the money Terry gave her for shopping. Not that he had really been giving her enough for food. 

Even with staying in cheap hotels like this one, her money would soon be gone. And what about food and gas? How long would she last without those? Hell, she didn't even know where she was going. She had no friends, and no family. How was she going to take care of Blair? She might be able to do this if it was just her, but she had Blair to think about. 

With that last thought running though her head, she turned and a hiss passed her lips as she did, her bruise making contact with her hand on the pillow. Pushing that thought as well as all the thoughts about what tomorrow would hold, Naomi let out a deep sigh and let sleep claim her. 

Sinking down into sleep, her mind pulled up dreams of summer days, free of worry, like when she was a child. Blair was with her, his face beaming up at her as he played in the front yard of their house, only it wasn't their house. This one was clean and homey. Terry was there, not drunk and complaining about all the injustices of work. Instead, he was smiling, watching their son playing in the grass. 

And even as she smiled at how perfect it was, part of her mind knew it was nothing but a dream. 

(end?)  
Comments and ideas welcome  
Banshee 

* * *

Complete song by Savage Garden 

And she takes another step  
Slowly she opens the door  
Checking that he is sleeping  
Picking up all the broken glass and furniture on the floor  
Been up half the night screaming, now it's time to get way  
Pack up the kids in the car  
Another bruise to try and hide  
Another alibi to write 

Another ditch in the road  
You keep moving  
Another stop sign  
You keep moving on  
And the years go by so fast  
Wonder how I ever made it through 

Another ditch in the road  
You keep moving  
Another stop sign  
You keep moving on  
And the years go by so fast  
Wonder how I ever made it through 

And there are children to think of   
Baby's asleep in the back-seat  
Wonder how they'll ever make it through this living nightmare  
But the mind is an amazing thing  
Full of candy dreams and new toys and another cheap hotel  
Two beds and a coffee machine  
But there are groceries to buy  
And she knows she'll have to go home 

Another bruise to try and hide  
Another alibi to write  
Another lonely highway in the black of night  
But there's hope in the darkness  
You know you're going to make it 

Another ditch in the road  
You keep moving  
Another stop sign  
You keep moving on  
And the years go by so fast  
Silent fortress built to last  
Wonder how I ever made it 


End file.
